


In all my dreams, I drown

by Sabrielle



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, POV Second Person, Porn with some plot, Rated for future chapters, Small fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22640737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabrielle/pseuds/Sabrielle
Summary: In an unfortunate turn of fate, the merchant ship you have booked passage on is boarded by pirates. Fortunately, Captain Flint, famous across the Atlantic for his fearful acts of piracy, finds your willfulness charming, offering you passage back to Nassau. Tensions rise during one stormy night at sea, and suddenly the idea of land underneath your feet isn't so tempting.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been poking away at this one for a while now, so I'm happy to get it posted. Whenever I have some extra time I plan to create a M/M reader insert for this particular story as well! In the meantime enjoy :)

_The men were restless and ill-humoured._

_Flint could hardly blame them for it. They'd been chasing a ghost of a chance for weeks, and the crew didn't even have the benefit of knowing. Weeks without so much as a whisper of the Urca; only lost spoils, empty promises and now this._

He stood on the deck of the Walrus, next to his quartermaster, Mr.Gates, as they watched the smoldering wreck recede.

The wreckage was the remainder of a merchant vessel they had caught by surprise off the coast of Florida. Disoriented by the previous night’s gale-force storm, the ship had been blown far off of its original course set for Carolina.

Flint, hungry for news of Parrish’s ship knew they couldn’t pass up a single opportunity. Unfortunately, this ship yielded no new information, and that was only the beginning of the trouble.  
  
The ship (which, in hindsight, clearly had been uninsured) had been crewed by a particularly reckless and brutish company of men. During the boarding and subsequent fight, one of the idiot bastards had set the galley alight, ruining any small profit they would have made. The men had only time enough to pull over half a dozen hogsheads of raw sugar before the fire had spread too far to continue.

Six barrels of sugar and an unknown woman who had already tried to kill one of his crew.

Hardly a prize worth mentioning.

“She shot at Billy and when that didn’t work she pitched the pistol at him. Gave him a black eye. Quite the hellcat.” Seemingly unperturbed by their new guest, Gates's optimism was not catching. “Once she, ah, became aware of the situation she was much more… agreeable."

Ferrying the woman back to Carolina was out of the question, in a hundred different ways. Neither, by the look of her belongings, was she likely to produce a worthy ransom. No, the best course, for everyone involved, was to leave the woman in the care of the Guthries when they reached Nassau. For a small fee, they would see her given passage on a trustworthy vessel set to return to the colonies. Flint would not entertain any other suggestions. Though, there was an aspect of danger involved with playing the gentleman. The men in Flint’s crew were not so much bad men, as hard ones. They would see little benefit in rescuing a lady, and without hope of a ransom, even less. His crew was not comparable in coarseness and vulgarity to others, but there were a few among them that would use this to their advantage. 

Flint sighed, the nagging annoyance of this latest failure made it hard for him to concentrate.

"And where is she now?"

* * *

Mr. Gates had seen fit to lock you in what basically amounted to a grain closet. There had been no use in fighting, once you realized your situation. You cursed your folly for being persuaded to pay passage on a ship traveling so late in the season. In punishment for your ‘unrestrained’ lifestyle, your family had chosen to betroth you to a self-made banker in the colonies. In reality, their floundering fortunes were all they really cared for.

What would happen to you now? You sat in quiet contemplation of your fate. Of one thing you were certain, trapped on a ship in the Caribbean sea, there was no escape.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts. They stopped outside the door. It felt like your heart had moved into your throat, and was beating hard enough to make you feel sick. Whoever it was, they knocked first on the door of the closet. The exceptional politeness of the simple act struck you. The merchant's crew had hardly treated you with such regard. Thankfully, the man who entered was only the quartermaster, having introduced himself as you had been forcibly carried from one ship to the other. Patient and calm, he treated you like a half-wild animal. All his movements were slow and methodical as he directed you from the closet, before leading you to the Captain’s quarters. You had heard stories about Captain Flint and his crew. The newspapers often entertained British society with articles on their most recent immoralities. Theives and murderers to a man, if the papers were to be believed.

The Captain's quarters were notably tidy and spartan. The captain himself, gaze steely, stood with the practiced ease of a man used to being in commandl. He flipped through some documents on his desk before he turned his eyes to you. Without pause or introduction, he cut immediately to the chase.

“We will not be ransoming you, considering the effort would hardly be worth the reward.” Flint eyed your fine, but worn gown, and noted your look of indignation. “Am I wrong?” You wanted to lie if only to protect yourself, but you knew once found out, your position would become even more precarious.

“No.” your tone was bitter.

He appeared unsurprised. “Neither will we be returning you to Carolina.”

Abruptly, you tensed, chin titled in defiance. “Why didn’t you just throw me into the sea and have done with it then?” Mr. Gates attempted to intervene but to no avail.

“Why don’t we all-”

“That can still be arranged.” Flint’s tone was dangerously low, but you refused to back down. Your other potential prospects in regards to the situation weren’t looking pleasant.

“What is to become of me then?”

“We will return to our main port in Nassau. Once there the Guthries can connect you with passage on a safe and reputable merchant ship to return you to the colonies. For the remainder of the voyage, you will not leave your room unless it is under the supervision of myself or Mr.Gates. Is that clear? I’m sure you can understand.”

The captain was not joking nor was he being overly malicious. You were acutely aware of what could happen to a woman on a ship full of dangerous men, especially one that had no hope of a ransom to protect her. 

You dipped your head in a sarcastic curtsy, unused to being spoken to in such a way. "I suppose I should thank you for the... hospitality." Mr. Gates shot you a strained look but Flint appeared rather amused. 

"I'm sorry, would my _lady_ have preferred to be left where we found her?"

Your face flushed involuntarily at his remark but you chose to say nothing. The genteel way in which he spoke put you off guard. Surely you would have more than enough time to exchange politely acidic conversation over the next several days you were to be chaperoned.

As you were escorted from the captain's quarters Mr. Gates attempted to soothe your nerves.

"The journey will be done before you even realize. It's but a few days of full sail before we reach Nassau Town."

For your sake, you hoped he was right.


	2. The Calm pt.II

Whether you cried yourself to sleep that night, overcome by everything you had witnessed, or if you were so tired you fell straight into a dreamless slumber, mattered little the next morning. From the moment Mr.Gates knocked softly on your closet door, you walked through the day in a haze. On the deck, supervised again, by Mr.Gates, you sat and pulled at the threads of your skirt listlessly. You attracted a few odd looks from the crew but for the most part, they let you be. They worked the sails, climbed the rigging, and seemed content to enjoy the fair weather, as normal men were wont to do. In between directing the men in their tasks, Mr.Gates attempted to distract you with mild conversation. He told you of places he had sailed, storms he had weathered, and even, as you began to engage with his stories, elaborated on more personal tales, about his tattoos. Finally, as the afternoon wore on you headed back to your room. Tired from a day in the sun and eyes strained from staring out at the unbroken expanse of blue sea, the chance for a brief catnap was welcome. Maybe this would be manageable, you thought as you began to doze, maybe in another month, this would all be like a half-remembered dream.

You woke abruptly, in the half-dark, to a sharp rapping on your door. Fumbling for the handle and the latch, you swung the door open to reveal Captain Flint. His look of surprise assuredly mirrored your own.

  
“Did I… wake you?” his question hung in the air, hardly in need of a proper answer, considering your disheveled state.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, “can I help you?” You would have thought the situation almost comical if you hadn't still been half asleep.

He flicked a look over his shoulder. “It’s dinner.” he said dryly as if the statement alone should have been self-explanatory. You frowned, propriety was lost on you in your current mood.

“And?”

He was annoyed then, eyebrows furrowed. He paused, “Look, if you would rather be served food here, you need only say so.”

“Oh, dinner,” you said with some emphasis, suddenly recalling Mr.Gates’ offer from earlier that morning.

_“Now,” the quartermaster had said, “you have two choices; to eat dinner as you please in your room, not very spacious in that regard is it eh? Or, the Captain has offered you his company if you would prefer a proper table.” Mr. Gates had chuckled then. “Some of these louts have table talk to shame their own fathers!” He gave a passing man a friendly pat on the shoulders, who guffawed, exchanging an affable swat in return.“I imagine dining in the mess hall with the men would make everyone involved rather uncomfortable.”_

You had been inclined to agree.

“Yes...” you paused, smoothed out your gown, and ran a hand through your hair. “Yes, that would be... nice.” Flint’s features softened in the face of your abashment. You followed him across the ship, attempting to tidy your countenance and re-summon your dignity the whole way. When you reached the Captain’s cabin, Flint held the door for you and you finally let your hands settle. You passed the mismatched chairs and table, drawn to the long bank of windows. The sun had just set, painting the sky in lavenders, pinks, and periwinkles. The sea itself was calm and dark, betraying nothing of its depths, much like the man you now found yourself dining with. Flint held back, watching you at the window. He chose to say nothing. Instead, he left you to your quiet contemplation.

He returned a few minutes later, carrying two bowls; he placed them on the table next to some bread and a bit of wrapped cheese. You still stood, watching the sea, hands at the sill.  
The sound of the chair being pulled out from the table broke you from your reverie.

“I’m sorry,” you tried to sound lighthearted, despite the sudden wave of wistfulness you felt. “Mine doesn’t have a window.”

Flint pursed his lips. “Benefits of captaincy, I suppose.”

The food is good, better than good. You feel as if you haven’t eaten something so savory in a while, and in truth, you haven’t. Food on the merchant ship you had paid passage for was bland and usually stale, or far too vinegary. You both ate in silence. Once you finished your meal you felt brave enough to hazard a question that had been on your mind most the day. “It must have been weekly that I hear of some horrible exploit of you and your crew in the papers. Why would you go out of your way to bring me to safety?” You looked down at your empty bowl. “My family has no money to ransom my well-being, as you know.”

Flint sighed lightly. “I feel that you will be very disappointed with my answer. Simply put, and as surprising to your delicate sensibilities as it may be, it was an easy thing for me to do, so I did. Does that satisfy you?”

You placed your hands in your lap stiffly. “You know it doesn’t. It would have been just as easy to forget and leave me on a sinking ship.” Your statement was matter of fact, completely void of emotion. You hated being treated as a shallow, empty-headed society woman. Although, you felt as if you were being prodded purposefully now.

Flint snorted, “No it wouldn’t have. Especially after the black eye you gave Billy. I’m sure you’re a devil not easily put back in the box.”

Pursing your lips, you sipped from your mug of watered-down rum. His flashes of cheek were almost as frustrating as his spans of frosty indifference.

_Most feared captain of the seas indeed._


	3. The Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a stormy night, and you can't sleep. 
> 
> What is a lady to do?

A heave of the ship tipped you from your makeshift bed to the floor, jarring you from a fitful sleep. Confused and still not fully awake, you listened for sounds of commotion, but other than the muffled conversation drifting down the hall from the berth and the measured footsteps above you on deck, the ship sounded as it had the last few nights. 

Much to your surprise, the journey since your “voluntary capture” had passed calmly, if not pleasantly. The crew, nearly to a man, had treated you with uncommon politeness and guarded civility. Mr. Gates himself had become an amiable companion to the afternoons you spent on deck under his supervision. The evenings you had spent dining in the company of the Captain, were a different business altogether. He treated you with a coolness and distant indifference that you were entirely unaccustomed to. It bothered you that you were so affected by it, though outwardly you tried to remain as aloof. Your dinners consisted of short conversation, punctuated by long silences. You craved some reaction from him. 

Dressed only in your shift, you slipped down the main hall of the ship, silently passed the stairs to the deck and tapped out a knock on the door to the Captain's quarters.

 _"I'm just here to borrow a book"_ , you reminded yourself as you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

Flint blinked at you slowly, like a cat. His tone was conversational. "Can I help you?" His eyes passed over you, seemingly innocuous to your state of dress, and then returned to the documents weighed down on his desk.

A sudden pitch of the ship sent you forward, slamming you against the closest wall. Barely catching yourself at the last second, you tried to regain your footing. Flint steadied himself against the desk before making his way to you. Offering you his arm, he held you away from him.

“It’s little more than a squall, you should go back to bed.” 

“I can’t sleep.” You said carefully. “I thought-” Another lurch of the deck made your knees buckle.

Reflexively, Flint pulled you against him, supporting you. His gaze strayed from your eyes, where he was usually careful to have them fixed, down past your neck to the unbuttoned opening of your shift. You shivered, “I thought, perhaps I could borrow one of your books?” 

Flint looked away purposefully, “I suppose you could,” he gestured to the small shelf of books next to the desk. "I’ll have to apologize, my collection is... somewhat lacking.” He smiled wryly, before returning to his desk.

You made your way across the cabin, careful to walk with the movement of the ship. Flint watched you run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. His gaze was appraising, and held a spark of curiosity, rather than the usual remoteness he seemed to regard most everything with. 

“Cervantes… Descartes… and,” You pulled the book back, pleasantly surprised, “Milton. Paradise Lost?” The book was a worn green volume, elegant gold illuminations decorated the cover and spine. 

“Only the first book.” Flint said modestly. “You’ve read it?” You flipped through the book, perched on the edge of the desk. Turning to him you tilted your head in mock offence. 

“Better to reign in Hell-”

“Than to serve in Heaven.” He finished the quote for you, seemingly pleased by your sharpness. 

“I hadn’t thought to find a classically educated man on a pirate ship, of all places.”

“I’m not.”

The curtness of his reply kept you from enquiring further, despite your interest. Slipping from the desk you returned to the bookshelf.

No longer interested in the maps on his desk, Flint watched you flip through his humble collection of books. Any kind of stimulating conversation was hard to come by at sea. Most things that required his attention were related to the ship or crew, so your distraction was a pleasant one.

And you were a distraction.

The curve of your waist, just barely visible through your nightgown, conjured thoughts of you that were quite hard to reconcile with the ladylike image you presented. Though you played the sweet and naive hostage, Flint was hardly fooled. The look you shot over your shoulder at him was anything but demure. 

“They write about you, in the London Gazette.”

Flint grimaced, “Nothing pleasant, I’m sure.”

“Oh horrible things,” you said with mock enthusiasm. “They say you are cruel, beyond measure, that you are without mercy, and..." pausing, you scrutinized him, finally making a face, as if you had found him wanting, "... they say you cannot be killed." 

He made his way around the desk, next to you. "And? What do you believe?" 

"I think you are but a man. Remarkable in other ways, but surely mortal."

"Perhaps you're right."

You’re close, close enough to see clearly the stormy blue-green of his eyes, close enough to kiss, but instead Flint lifted the book gently from your hands before reaching past you to shelve it.

“You didn’t come here to borrow a book.”

The full force of his gaze, which you had so longed to feel before, now made your cheeks and neck flush with warmth. Your attempt at a composed smile faltered.

“Very presumptuous aren’t we?”

Flint scoffed at your bluff and raised an eyebrow. “Hardly, do you always dress so inadequately, or is this a special occasion?” 

Your flippant attitude returned, “Do you always think so highly of yourself? Or is this a special occasion?” You placed your hand on his chest, unsure whether you wanted to push him away, or draw him to you.

He laughed dryly and, lifting your hand, set a dangerously soft kiss upon it, eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me, what you want.”

Loathe to give in, but desperate for more of him, you allowed your gaze to drift down the length of his body. Flint lifted your chin with a crooked finger, forcing you to look at him.

“I want to hear you.” His voice was a husky murmur.

You licked your lips, eager to please yet wanting to rebel all at once. In the end your desire won out. “I want you... Captain.” 

As you watched, the corner of his mouth curved into a self-satisfied smile, and you knew yourself undone.


	4. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are here looking for the recent update (June 26th) please see Ch. 2, which has been freshly added, and takes up the story between Ch. 1 and the former Ch.2 (now Ch. 3)

You backed away, leading him by the hand, your movements slow and deliberate. His steps mirrored yours, like a dance, until your back was flush with the bulkhead. Raising a hand, Flint’s thumb traced the edge of your jaw. He continued down the line of your throat, as you pressed yourself to him in answer, hips to hips, chest to chest. There was nothing in this small moment that you didn’t notice; his hands at your waist and neck, the hitch of his breath and the barely restrained fervor with which he now pinned you to the boards of the bulkhead. 

Despite your coupled need, your lips met gently, almost hesitantly. The first few kisses were tender and chaste, deepening quickly as you rolled your hips against him and another dip of the ship pressed him closer to you. Days of built-up tension gave way under the passion with which you both met. Every past glance, every detached remark was now an exhaled plea, a crushing kiss. Grasping the collar of his coat you twisted the fingers of your free hand into his hair, biting his lip, hard. Flint rumbled a growl of a laugh at your eagerness. Sliding his hand from your waist he thumbed your nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, before reaching down to your thigh. Sea worn hands pleasingly rough against your skin, he hooked your leg around his waist and lifted you. The formerly important maps and documents fell to the floor as he turned, and cleared the desk in one swipe. 

Navigational instruments and other objects bounced across the deck, but neither of you seemed to notice. You gasped as he nipped and kissed your neck, hands sliding from your waist to the curve of your ass. Back arched, shift undone, your nipples peeked through the fabric, made all the more sensitive by the movement of his clothing against your chest. You broke apart, both panting as, together, you slipped the shift over your head, and tossed it to the floor in a heap. Flint inhaled sharply at the sight of you, splayed across his desk, naked. Your lips were bruised from the greedy kisses but every bit of you was overwhelmed by the want you felt. In another breath you both met again, your mouth on his, your hands grasping his collar, fingers splayed on his chest, the ghost of his touch over your breasts, between your thighs. 

Desperate for more, you pressed your hips into Flint's hands, biting back moans as, with a wolf-like sharpness, he marked your neck and shoulders with nips and kisses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you breathed words of encouragement against his ear, surprised at your own wantonness. You felt him slide a hand down your hip in answer. His touch along the inside of your thigh and the following glide of his fingers against your cunt made you gasp. Kissing him, you moaned softly into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside you. Flint pumped you leisurely, with such a maddening slowness that you squirmed in frustration beneath him. 

You cried out in disappointment as he withdrew. “No no! Wh-d-don’t stop, please!” Your hands pulled in vain at his coat, your climax had only begun to build. “Please,” you begged, panting. Flint shook his head and laughed softly as he teased your clit. 

“It took only two fingers to shatter that haughty pretense. Hardly becoming for a lady.” Flint surveyed you from under half-lidded eyes. “If you could only see your face… I imagine you would agree.” You had the heart only to groan in compliance. 

“Plea-”

A sharp rap at the door interrupted, making both of you tense. 

“Captain,” After a long pause, in which not a person moved, a muffled voice from outside the door continued, “Since the storm has died down, the helmsman wants to know if you think we should tack the sails starboard and hug the coast, or stay our course for the night?”

Flint did not answer. Instead, he helped you down from the desk and handed you your shift. Silently, you slipped your clothing back on and watched Flint straighten his jacket and run a hand through his hair. 

Drawing you to him he smoothed the stray strands of hair away from your face before kissing you. You parted, and Flint turned from you without a word. Placing a hand upon the door he paused, looking back. “Try to get some sleep.”

* * *

You waited for both pairs of footsteps to recede before making your way back to your bed. The ship had quieted considerably, the deck no longer bucked beneath you and your make-shift bed beckoned. If all Mr.Gate’s estimations were correct, this would be your second last night at sea. The thought did not thrill you as it once had. You tossed and turned restlessly, unable to find comfort in the idea of reaching your new home.


End file.
